Around the World in Eighty Days

Chapter XVIII

In which Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, and Fix go each about his business

The weather was bad during the latter days of the
voyage. The wind, obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale,
and retarded the steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily and the
passengers became impatient of the long, monstrous waves which the wind
raised before their path. A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November,
the squall knocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running
high. The Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging
proved too much, whistling and shaking amid the squall. The steamer was
forced to proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would reach
Hong Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.

Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be struggling
especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He never changed
countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty hours, by making him
too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost inevitably cause the loss of
the wager. But this man of nerve manifested neither impatience nor
annoyance; it seemed as if the storm were a part of his programme, and
had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed to find him as calm as he had been
from the first time she saw him.

Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and
waves. Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more
probable that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and
now the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea-sick—he made no account of this
inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects, his
spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.

Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be at
his master’s service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam
united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come? Passepartout
was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were to come from
his own pocket. The storm exasperated him, the gale made him furious, and
he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience. Poor fellow! Fix
carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction, for, had he betrayed
it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained himself from personal
violence.

Aid the progress... by lending a hand with the crew.

Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being unable
to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the progress of
the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed the captain,
officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his impatience,
with all sorts of questions. He wanted to know exactly how long the storm
was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the barometer, which
seemed to have no intention of rising. Passepartout shook it, but with no
perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor maledictions could prevail
upon it to change its mind.

On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened its
violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather. Some of the sails were
unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed. The time
lost could not, however, be regained. Land was not signalled until five
o’clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th.
Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind-hand, and the Yokohama steamer
would, of course, be missed.

The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama; but
he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which still
remained till the last moment. He had confided his anxiety to Fix who—the
sly rascal!—tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg would be in time
if he took the next boat; but this only put Passepartout in a passion.

Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the
pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave Hong
Kong for Yokohama.

“At high tide to-morrow morning,” answered the pilot.

“Ah!” said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.

Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the
pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.

“What is the steamer’s name?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“The Carnatic.”

“Ought she not to have gone yesterday?”

“Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till to-morrow.”

“Thank you,” returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.

Passepartout clasped the pilot’s hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, “Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!”

The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him
this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge, and guided the
steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which
crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.

At one o’clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers
were going ashore.

Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the
Carnatic been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she
would have left on the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan
would have been obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next
steamer. Mr. Fogg was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but
this could not seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.

The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco made
a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not sail until
the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four hours late
on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily regained in the
voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found himself, then,
about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days after leaving
London.

The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next
morning. Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business
there, which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.

On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to
the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,
after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her cousin
Jeejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel until his
return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.

Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee
merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh
had left China two years before, and, retiring from business with an
immense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe—in Holland the
broker thought, with the merchants of which country he had principally
traded. Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment’s
conversation with Aouda, and without more ado, apprised her that Jeejeeh
was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.

Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead, and
reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said: “What
ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?”

“It is very simple,” responded the gentleman. “Go on to Europe.”

“But I cannot intrude—”

“You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!”

“Monsieur.”

“Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins.”

Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to
him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk
gait to obey his master’s order.